


A Society Of Wolves

by Marblez



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, M/M, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:33:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marblez/pseuds/Marblez
Summary: ORIGINALLY WRITTEN AS PART OF THE NOVEMBER 2017 ROUGH TRADE CHALLENGE WHICH I WAS UNABLE TO COMPLETE IN THE TIME LIMIT DUE TO REAL LIFE COMMITMENTS AND ILLNESS SO WILL NOW POST IT HERE AND COMPLETE IT AT MY LEISURE.When seventeen-year-old Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski is given the opportunity to stay with Mrs Martin and her daughter, Lydia, in Bath, he is hoping for an adventure. Soon introduced to society, he meets Allison Argent, her widowed father, Chris, and her as-yet-unmarried aunt, Kate. He also meets Derek Hale, a handsome young man from a respectable family of Werewolves and his sister, Cora, and must learn to navigate both human and werewolf society. Invited to visit the Hale estate, Lupine Abbey, he discovers the mystery of the deadly Hale fire and sets about discovering the truth behind the unpleasant circumstances.





	1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER** – I own nothing.

 **SUMMARY** – When seventeen-year-old Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski is given the opportunity to stay with Mrs Martin and her daughter, Lydia, in Bath, he is hoping for an adventure. Soon introduced to society, he meets Allison Argent, her widowed father, Chris, and her as-yet-unmarried aunt, Kate. He also meets Derek Hale, a handsome young man from a respectable family of Werewolves and his sister, Cora, and must learn to navigate both human and werewolf society. Invited to visit the Hale estate, Lupine Abbey, he discovers the mystery of the deadly Hale fire and sets about discovering the truth behind the unpleasant circumstances.

 **AN** – ORIGINALLY WRITTEN AS PART OF THE NOVEMBER 2017 ROUGH TRADE CHALLENGE WHICH I WAS UNABLE TO COMPLETE IN THE TIME LIMIT DUE TO REAL LIFE COMMITMENTS AND ILLNESS SO WILL NOW POST IT HERE AND COMPLETE IT AT MY LEISURE. This story is what happens when I watch "Teen Wolf" whilst reading Jane Austen novels. It is loosely based on 'Northanger Abbey' but with the typical 'Teen Wolf' elements we all know and love.

**A SOCIETY OF WOLVES**

**PROLOGUE**

No one who had ever seen Mieczyslaw Stilinski, or Stiles as he preferred to be known due to his incomprehensible name, in his infancy would have supposed him born to be a hero.

His situation in life, the character of his father and the untimely death of his mother, his own person and disposition, were all equally against him. His father, Noah, was a retired soldier who had come into a tidy income following the death of his own father, Elias, and was much respected in their local community. He had lost his arm in battle, prompting his return to England and bringing about the end of his career, but he could never bemoan the way his life had turned out for it was this injury which had brought him to his wife. Claudia Stilinski, neé Gajos, had been a woman of useful plain sense, with a good temper, kind heart and, sadly, a weak constitution. She had struggled to bring Stiles into the world and, despite a longing for a large family, no more children had followed. She had not grown resentful however, as some would have, and had instead devoted herself to her husband and son. Her weak constitution was to be her undoing, sadly, and after a long and devastating fight with an illness of the mind, Stiles lost his mother. For a brief time his father descended into grief, locking himself away and drinking more than was healthy, but eventually the needs of his son brought him back to life. In fact the two remaining Stilinski’s grew all the closer for it.

It was during this time, with the grief of losing his mother still fresh, that Stiles had made the acquaintances of a boy who would become his lifelong friend, compatriot and brother; Scott McCall. So deep in his grief as he was Stiles could not remember the specifics of the day that Scott and his mother, Melissa, had arrived in the village but had heard from several sources over the years that it had caused quite a stir for one simple reason; the colour of their skin.

Melissa McCall, neé Delgado, was of Spanish origin and had married a British soldier during the early days of the Peninsula War. She and Scott were the first people “of colour” to arrive in the village in living memory and it had taken a while for them to be accepted, although this was not the only reason for the villagers wariness. Melissa was Catholic, as was the common practice in her native country, and as such was still legally married to her husband despite the fact that she had left him after his drinking, a by-product of his years of battle and bloodshed, had grown so out of hand that he had thrown their then six-year-old son down the stairs. However it wasn’t this that led to people being wary of her at first; it was the fact that she had taken the position of live-in housekeeper with Doctor Weldon, a single man of no more than thirty. It wasn’t until the good Doctor married Harriet Smyth-Weston that the gossips finally accepted that Melissa was as good and honest a woman as could be.

Over the years Scott and Stiles had become completely inseparable despite their different personalities; whilst Stiles could be described as anxious, hyperactive, and curious to a fault Scott could only be described by all who met him as being good-natured, kind-hearted, affable, loyal and above all else optimistic. Stiles was a notorious bookworm; Scott couldn’t be compelled to pick up a book, preferring to be outdoors. Stiles, like his father, enjoyed puzzles, and considered his intelligence to be his greatest strength; Scott could be naïvely innocent and trusting, often overlooking highly probable risks. Stiles was instinctively wary of strangers and was slow to trust; Scott would always strive to see the best in people and it was this trait which changed their lives completely the summer they both turned sixteen.

Werewolves had been accepted into society during the reign of Henry V, giving them the same rights as a full-blooded human, and yet Stiles had had no encounters with the lupine race until the summer which changed the course of his life. A woman had come to the village, her clothes tattered, her hair unkempt and a wild look in her eyes. He skin, a deep brown colour, had been covered in healing scratches and everyone had been suitable wary of her as she’d walked through the centre of the village, her claws out and encrusted with what looked to be a mixture of dirt and blood. Everyone but Scott, that was, who had broken away from where he had been stood beside Stiles and had offered the stranger his assistance. Stiles had been completely gobsmacked by the risks his friend was so publicly taking and, in a move he would forever regret, had refused to go with him when Scott had taken the woman home so that his mother or Doctor Weldon could look over her injuries.

Scott was found a couple of hours later by his mother, his skin all but flayed off his body by the woman’s claws and a ragged bit mark on his side, so deep that chunks of his flesh were missing. Whilst the villagers, led by Noah, hunted down the woman, an Alpha called Kali who had apparently been driven mad after hunters had illegally slaughtered her entire Pack, Stiles had fought to save his friends life alongside Melissa and Doctor Weldon. It had quickly become apparent to him that his friend should have already died by the time his mother had found him, that his injuries had been slowly healing themselves which could mean one thing; the bite from the Alpha Werewolf had taken and Scott was in the transitioning stage.

Kali had been caught, arrested, transported to the nearest town and had been found guilty of attacking a human without cause and turning said human without consent. The penalty for such crimes should have been death but her mental state was taken into account and, instead, she was sentenced to life imprisonment in Eichen House, a notoriously unpleasant Lunatic Asylum specially designed to hold Werewolves and other supernatural creatures.

It was thanks to Stiles’ love of reading that Scott was able to adjust to life as a Werewolf as smoothly as he did. There were still issues to overcome, of course, given that Scott was understandably distressed by what had happened and he struggled greatly with the pull of the moon for the first few months which had led to Stiles literally chaining his best friend up in the woodshed behind his house to ensure that he wouldn’t hurt anyone by accident. The physical aspects were nothing compared to the complexities of Werewolf Society, however.

Scott was classed as an Omega, a Werewolf without a Pack, and this meant that he was unable to join any part of the Werewolf Society as he had no one to introduce him, a task which was normally completed by the Alpha of the Pack. This meant that, until he found a Pack willing to accept him, he would be at a social disadvantage as he was no longer a part of Human Society although he was permitted to attend the Assemblies and Balls in town.

In terms of his appearance Stiles was considered to be terribly plain as a child, unfortunately gangly as a youth, before finally beginning to blossom into a handsome young man in the months following his best friends attack. Those who had once called him thin or gangly now referred to him as lean and of medium height, his growth spurt finally having come to an end and leaving him only an inch shorter than his father. His skin, once considered too pale, was now praised for its milky white perfection and the moles which covered his entire body but was particularly prominent on his face, neck and torso, were much admired for their uniqueness. His brown hair, once kept too short to be fashionable, was now of a suitable length for all of the eligible you women in the village to admire greatly and his eternally warm honey-brown eyes were the envy of several of his acquaintances. His choice in clothing could still use some improvements, it was agreed, as he favoured comfort above all else, refusing to bow to the latest fashions but this was sometimes favourable in an eligible young man; they couldn’t be too perfect or what would their chosen partner be left with to improve upon? His clothing would be taken in hand by his wife, no doubt, when the match was made. He was, therefore, considered, "pleasing, and, when in good looks, handsome."

No doubt Stiles would have eventually settled down with one of the pleasant young women he had been introduced to at the social gatherings he attended had fate not intervened, sending an invitation for him to join their former neighbours in Bath for the Winter Season.

~ * ~


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

Stiles would much have preferred to ride his own gelding, Rosco, to Bath but apparently it “simply wouldn’t do” for him to arrive mud-splattered and windswept with his belongings stuffed into a variety of saddle bags and so his soon-to-be hosts, Mrs Natalie Martin and her daughter, Lydia, had sent their carriage to collect him. He only had a vague recollection of them as they had left the village when he was six-years-old, although if his fathers tales were to be believed he had harboured an intense crush on the young Miss Martin, toddling after her like a love-sick puppy from the moment he could walk unaided, and at the time he hadn’t understood why they had to leave at all. Now, thinking back as the carriage bounced its way along the main road that connected London and Bath, he understood completely; Mr Martin had deserted his wife and daughter, setting up house with his much younger Mistress in London, and had left Mrs Martin with only a small allowance to live on. A country house was impractical, given the costs, whilst a townhouse of reasonable size and location was entirely affordable and so they had left their home and their friends behind.

“Don’t go bringing up their reason for leaving, Stiles,” his father had warned him as they said their goodbyes to each other whilst the servants had secured his rather meagre belongings into the luggage rack at the back of the carriage. He was taking only what was absolutely necessary as he’d never been one for trivialities. “If they bring it up in conversation, fine, you may discuss it with her but for heavens sake don’t latch onto it like one of your puzzles.”

Stiles had responded with an eye-roll,

“I do possess some manners, you know? And I wouldn’t treat it like a puzzle anyway, Papa, because there’s nothing left to figure out; the facts of the matter are known to everyone.”

“I know, son,” his father had murmured fondly, pulling him into a very tight hug which had prompted the two of them to cling to each other for a little longer than was proper. “Listen to Mrs Martin’s advice when it comes to dealing the supernatural parts of society; my knowledge is somewhat out-of-date, I’m afraid, but given her daughters inheritance and their allegiance to one of the largest Packs in Bath she’ll be able to advise you properly.”

Learning that his hosts were members of Satomi Ito’s Pack had been what had cemented his decision to accept their offer, if only to try and get them to open up an invitation for Scott.

Thus far his journey had been almost painfully dull. Reading whilst in a moving carriage always gave him a headache and therefore he could only stand to read a page at a time before being forced to take a break. This left him with nothing to do but stare out of the windows at the world passing by and polish of the food that Mrs Hughes, his fathers loyal housekeeper, had sent along for the journey; a patchwork of fields passed by as he removed the crusts from the cheese and ham sandwiches, some thing he had done as a child, and for every evergreen tree he saw that was completely overshadowing their deciduous cousins he slipped on of the miniature jam tarts into his mouth. They broke their journey thrice, once in a bustling town where Stiles was able to stretch his legs as he wandered into the coaching inn that they’d stopped at for a pint of beer, and twice in sleepy villages where their arrival caused nothing more than a brief turn of the head from those who lived their. It was all very safe and very dull; neither robbers nor tempests befriended them on their journey as always seemed to happen in the novels that Stiles read between his informative texts, nor did the carriage overturn into a ditch as Scott, of all people, had been concerned would happen.

In fact it was so dull that Stiles found himself nodding off and missed out on seeing Bath for the first time, waking suddenly once the carriage had pulled to a halt outside the Martin’s townhouse, the noises of the bustling city wholly unfamiliar to him and rather unwelcome.

Pushing himself up from the slumped position he had ended up in he ran his fingers through his hair, something he always did upon waking despite the fact that it only served to make his wild hair look even wilder, and tugged on the collar of his shirt to straighten it. His book had fallen to the floor of the carriage and he hissed in annoyance when he saw that one of the pages had become bent back, hurriedly reaching down to rescue it. Setting it carefully down on the seat he tugged on his black leather boots, kicked off just before he fell asleep, straightened his waistcoat and then, once he was suitably presentable, stepped out of the carriage, gazing up at the townhouse he would be residing in for the foreseeable future.

It was a terrace house with what appeared to be four floors although Stiles suspected that one of such as size as theirs would also have a basement level for the servants. Each floor held two windows, diminishing in size the further away from the ground they were, and it’s exterior façade featured what appeared to be local stone, a light grey colour, stucco and some very fine ornamentation above each of the windows and around the black front door.

And there, etched into a beautifully polished circular brass plate which was mounted onto the front door beneath the knocker, was the Ito Pack’s symbol; the sun, a triskele and the moon woven together into an intricate in instantly recognisable image. Each member of the Pack would have this symbol displayed on their front doors as well as having it embroidered into their clothing, usually in the corners of their handkerchiefs although it had always been fashionable for female members of a Pack to incorporate them into the design of their gowns. Rumour had it that Elizabeth I, a staunch supporter of werewolf rights during her reign, had commissioned a gown to include ever single symbol of all of the Packs she had been given honourary membership to as Regent. Stiles couldn’t help but think that whoever had designed the symbol for Satomi Ito’s Pack had done a fantastic job even though he didn’t, as of yet, know the meaning behind the three elements that had been included.

He was just leaning forwards to get a closer look when the door opened, causing him to flail backwards a couple of steps as a petite young housemaid stepped out onto the front step, her bright blue eyes flickering up to meet his only briefly before she bobbed a polite curtsey.

“Excuse me. Mrs Martin and Miss Marin are waiting for you in the parlour, Mr Stilinski.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” Stiles mumbled, righting himself as quickly as he could so that he could follow her inside the building, trusting that his luggage would be taken care of by the coachman who had been in the process of climbing down from his seat. It was only at the last second that he turned back to grab his hat from inside the carriage, holding it under his arm for all of five paces before the housemaid reached out to take it from him. “…right…”

His cheeks flushed with heat as he handed it over, silently cursing himself for already making a fool of himself. At least his hosts weren’t there to witness him forgetting how to act as a well brought up gentleman, he thought to himself as he followed the maid into the parlour.

“Mr Stilinski, Madam.”

“Thank you, Hannah. We would like tea, please.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Observing his hosts Stiles couldn’t help but notice that Miss Martin was the spitting image of her mother with only one obvious difference, their eyes; whilst Mrs Martin had thin grey-blue eyes Miss Martin’s eyes were almost impossibly wide a similar colour to Stiles’ own. Time had also been kind to Mrs Martin and she wore the laugh lines on her face and the grey streaks in her fading red hair well, choosing the colour and style of her gown carefully to both flatter and conceal whilst maintaining the current fashion trends. Miss Martin was the perfect image of what a fashionable young woman should strive to look like; her brilliant red hair had been curled and pinned artfully around her face, the majority of it pulled up into an elegant and complicated bun at the back with a few curls purposely left loose and her muslin gown was a soft shade of green that compliment her fiery hair well, cut in such a way to draw attention to her petite frame and ample bosom. Around her neck she wore a gold pendant in the design of her Packs symbol and a solitary ring glinted on her right hand.

“Mr Stilinski,” Mrs Martin offered as she and her daughter dropped into a polite curtsey, their moment perfectly synchronised together. Stiles bowed in response, one hand tucked properly behind his back. “Welcome to our home. I hope your journey wasn’t too tedious.”

“Thank you for extending such a kind invitation, Mrs Martin,” Stile responded, the words tumbling out of his mouth as such a speed that they spoiled the manners which had been ingrained into his brain. “The journey was pleasant enough, if a little bit boring at times.”

“Please, sit,” Mrs Martin beckoned, gesturing to the single chair beside the pleasant looking sofa which she and her daughter dropped daintily down onto. Stiles held himself rigid as he took the offered seat so as not to drop down like a sack of potatoes as he would normally have done. “How was your father? His reply to our invitation was all about you and your accomplishments although that isn’t surprising; most of our correspondence over the years has been talking of our respective children rather than speaking of ourselves. He is well?”

“He is,” Stiles confirmed, pleased that she had opened their conversation with a subject so close to his heart; his father. “Although our village doctor recently became concerned about his general state of health, particularly in regards to his diet, so I have left strict instructions with our housekeeper as to what he can and cannot eat or drink whilst I am away to Bath.”

Miss Martin offered him a genuine smile, her plump red lips spreading to reveal a perfect set of milky white teeth, and all at once Stiles could understand his childhood infatuation.

She was…she was sunshine on a spring morning incarnate…

“…Mr Stilinski?”

He startled, dragging his gaze away from the beautiful young woman and found that he had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed the tea tray being brought in. He flushed deeply.

“I enquired as to whether you take sugar?”

“Oh, no, thank you,” Stiles answered. “And only a splash of milk. I like my tea strong.”

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

“Lydia!” Mrs Martin gasped, almost spilling the tea she was pouring as she turned to stare at her daughter who’s gaze locked with Stiles. “Where are your manners? You cannot just…”

“We would be a terrible match,” Miss Martin continued on as though her mother hadn’t spoken, smoothing her hands across her skirt. “Plus, I have my sights set on someone else.”

Stiles didn’t know how to respond.

“Lydia!”

“He was gazing at me like he did when we were five, Mama.”

“…you remember that, then?” Stiles enquired when he finally found his voice once more. “Papa told me that I had something of a crush on you but, well, I don’t actually remember…”

“You did,” Mrs Martin all but cooed, her previous frustration melting away as she recalled the events in question. “It was adorable. Claudia and I used to spend hours watching you.”

His heart clenched at the mention of his mother.

“I was so sorry to hear that she had passed away,” Mrs Martin murmured sincerely, her hands automatically moving through the motions to prepare the three cups of tea. “Your mother was a truly wonderful woman, Mr Stilinski, and I’m sure you must miss her greatly.”

“I do,” Stiles murmured, reaching out to accept the cup and saucer from Mrs Martin when she held it out towards him. He took a small sip, feeling instantly better, and more capable of responding to Miss Martin’s earlier statement. “Thank you. And I shall endeavour not to fall in love with you, Miss Martin, although I can make no promises as you are quite possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Apart from your enchanting mother, of course.”

After a beat where Stiles wondered if he’d gone too far Miss Martin offered him a smile.

“You’ll do,” she announced somewhat mysteriously as she accepted her own cup of tea from her mother, settling back into her seat in a relaxed yet still ladylike manner. “And if we are to be friends whilst you are staying with us you should really call me Lydia, Mr Stilinski.”

“Lydia,” he murmured, testing her name out on his lips with a smile of his own. “Thank you, I shall. Although I must beg you not to call me by my given name. I know my mother wished to honour her late father by naming me after him but, truly, you’d think she’d have had some compassion for her own child. Mieczyslaw Stilinski doesn’t exactly roll of the tongue, does it?” His enquiry was met with polite yet genuine laughter from his hosts. “Particularly for those who don’t speak Polish. So, please, just call me Stiles; everyone does back home.”

“Stiles,” Mrs Martin tested the name out with a smile, blowing daintily onto her tea before taking a sip. “Yes, your father always refers to you like that in his letters. I think it suits you.”

“I came up with it by accident,” Stiles admitted with a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I couldn’t say either of my names when I was learning to talk, or so my mother told me. I called myself Mischief Stiliki for years, literally, until eventually Stiliki became Stiles.”

Lydia offered him a smirk, obviously amused, while Mrs Martin actually cooed softly,

“That’s adorable...”

“What time is Satomi expecting us at the Pack House to introduce Stiles to the Pack?”

“…I beg your pardon?” Stiles responded to Lydia’s query with one of his own, confused by the sudden change of subject. “Is that…is that normal? I mean, I didn’t know I’d have to…”

Mrs Martin offered him an understanding smile.

“In some Packs, no, you wouldn’t need to be introduced to everyone but Satomi is very protective of her Pack Mates and because you are going to be spending an extended length of time with us that protection is extended to you,” she explained, placing her empty cup and saucer back on the tray. Stiles hummed thoughtfully, taking in her explanation. “The Wolves will want to memorise your scent so that they can best look out for you, just as they do for Lydia and myself whenever we appear in public. Don’t worry, they won’t be expecting anything of you so all you have to do is consider them to be your hosts as much as we are.”

“You say Wolves like…well, like you aren’t one…”

“I’m a Banshee,” Lydia announced calmly, her words surprising him. Banshees had been around for almost as long as werewolves but as they were more closely associated with death there were still some who were unreasonably apprehensive of them. It was the same thing with Hellhounds. “Satomi was the only Alpha willing to accept me into the protection of her Pack when I emerged a years ago. She has been teaching me how to control my gifts.”

“Huh.”

“Yes, Satomi is a good Alpha, unlike some I could mention,” Mrs Martin murmured fondly, patting her daughters hand where it rested on her thigh. “And we’re expected at three.”

A quick glance at the ornate clock residing inside a large glass dome atop the mantelpiece informed Stiles that he had a little over an hour before he would be introduced to the Pack.

“If you’d like to freshen up or change your clothes Hannah can show you up to your room, Stiles,” Mrs Martin offered, gesturing to the young housemaid who stepped forwards with a smile. Stiles nodded, suddenly very much aware of the rumpled and creases in his clothes. “Your things will have already been taken up so you should find everything you need.”

“Thank you, Mrs Martin.”

Placing his own cup and saucer on the tray once he’d managed to get himself up out of the comfortable chair he followed the housemaid out of the parlour and up the main staircase, bypassing the first floor where the family bedrooms would be and continuing up to the second floor. His room, it turned out, was the better of the two moderately sized guest rooms as it was towards the front of the house and therefore afforded him a street view.

Along in his room, Hannah having excused herself politely, Stiles suddenly found it difficult to breath, his heart rate speeding up as he stumbled across to perch on the edge of the bed.

He had known, logically, that he would eventually meet the Pack to which his hosts were affiliated but he had not been expecting to happen quite do suddenly or all at once. Perhaps an introduction or two at the famous pump rooms or an assembly, spread over the course of a couple of days. That he could have handled; it would have afforded him enough time to grow accustomed to the differences between human society and werewolf, or in this case, supernatural society. Being introduced to them all at once on his first day; not a good idea.

His vision began to blur around the edges, tunnelling out as his breathing became even more harsh. He recognised his symptoms having had panic attacks on several occasions prior to this but normally his father or Scott was there to talk him down. This time he was alone and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get control of his own bodily functions.

“Stiles?”

Lydia’s voice took him by surprise, his limited gaze snapping yo the door as the handle was turned slowly from the other side, the door swinging inwards so as to allow her to enter.

“Are you alright? Hannah said it sounded as though you were struggling to breathe…”

“I…”

Whatever else he had been about to say was lost as his throat suddenly closed up, choking him and only adding to his already laboured breathing, sweat beading across his forehead as his lungs began to ache. It was impossible for him to stop her from entering his bedroom.

“Stiles!” she gasped when finally caught sight of him, hurrying across to crouch down in front of him. All sense of propriety was forgotten as she took hold of his hands, linking them together as she met his gaze. “You need to slow your breathing down. I want you to do exactly as I say. Now, breathe in, two, three. Out, two, three. Good. Now, in, to, three, four. Out, two, three, four. That’s it. In, two, three, four, five. Good. Out, two, three, four, five.”

There was something in the way that she instantly knew how to help him that spoke of her having had to deal with panic attacks before and for that Stiles was thankful. With her help his breathing slowly returned to normal, his vision recovering at a similar rate until finally the tension which had been building up in his body eased off and he was able to speak.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. “I…I apologise that you had to see me that way. I’d…I’d like to say it’s not a common occurrence…well…no, it isn’t a common occurrence, but when it does happen I’m usually with my father or Scott…”

“Stiles,” Lydia interrupted his flustered rambling. “It’s ok. These things happen. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Do you know what it was that set you off? Can I help you in any way?”

“…I’m embarrassed to say that it is the prospect of meeting you Pack which brought it on,” he admitted, looking down at where their hands were still linked on his lap. “I’m not familiar with all of the intricacies of werewolf society and, as you’ve probably noticed, I babble a lot when I get nervous and I don’t want to say the wrong thing and embarrass myself or you…”

He yelped when the inside of of his wrist was pinched.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded him lightly when his eyes flashed up to meet hers once more. “Not all werewolves are the instinct driven monsters that the authors of popular novels seem to be so focused on. Satomi will not kill you for accidentally saying the wrong thing. In fact, she’ll probably explain whatever mistake you made and tell you how to correct it. All you really need to remember when meeting the Pack is what gesture to give to each level of the hierarchy. For Satomi or any other Alpha you should offer a full bow with your head tilted so as to expose your neck for a couple of seconds. For the Betas, which in our Pack are a married couple named Harold and Elizabeth Worthington who Satomi will introduce by name and title, you need only expose your neck for a brief moment as you bow. For the rest of us, the Gammas, a simple bow is all that is required. So stop worrying.”

This. This was the information he needed to completely calm his racing heart.

“That’s all you’ll need to know for this first meeting,” Lydia continued, giving his hands one last squeeze before rising to her feet, releasing his hands so that she could smooth out the wrinkles of of her skirts. “The rest we shall teach you during your stay. Now, wash your face and change into a fresh outfit. Perhaps one that isn’t quite so short in the jacket sleeves?”

With that final suggestion Lydia swept majestically from the room, leaving Stiles to obey her instructions. He would have to disappoint the younger of his two hosts, however, as all of his jackets had been bought before his last growth spurt and were all a little bit short now.

He descended to the parlour, tugging self-consciously on his sleeves, and not ten minutes after arriving in the room he and his hosts were alighting into the carriage which he then learned belonged not to the Martin’s but to the Ito Pack. It took nearly twenty minutes for them to wind their way through the roads of Bath to reach to home of Satomi Ito which was located in the Royal Crescent, a superior part of town to that which the Martin’s resided in.

If he had been in awe of their townhouse, which would be referred to by some as second rate, then he was completely struck dumb by the sight of the building they alighted in front of. It towered above them, a so called first rate building, and appeared far grander than any other building Stiles had ever seen. Above the door sat an elaborate engraving of the Ito Pack Symbol, large enough that it couldn’t be missed, and coloured to highlight the image.

They were shown inside, a polite young housemaid taking his hat and their bonnets and shawls, and escorted through to the drawing room where the entire Pack had assembled.

“Alpha Ito, may I present our guest for this season, Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” Mrs Martin made the required introduction after having curtseyed to the older woman of Japanese decent stood at the front of the group. Stiles noticed the way that Mrs Martin, and Lydia as well for she too had offered the older woman a curtsey, had tilted their heads. “He prefers Stiles.”

“Welcome to my home, Mr Stilinski.”

“Alpha Ito,” Stiles responded as politely as he could even though his nerves had resurfaced, causing his heart to begin racing once more. A couple of the werewolves stood behind their Alpha shifted, frowning ever so slightly across at him which certainly didn’t help his nerves. He offered her a bow, performing the unfamiliar action of tilting his head to the side as he did so. “Thank you, um, for inviting me. I wasn’t expecting to…to meet you so soon after…”

“Peace, child,” Satomi murmured reassuringly. “I can hear your heart racing from here.”

A couple of the werewolves chuckled as Stiles felt his cheeks flush.

“Now, come over here so that I can scent you properly and then I shall introduce you to my Pack,” she ordered, beckoning to him. Mrs Martin nodded encouragingly and his feet moved before he had ordered them to, taking him across to the Alpha whose eyes flashed red as she took hold of his hand and brought wrist up to her nose. “You smell like a summers day.”

“…is that a good thing?”

A few more chuckles spread throughout the Pack.

“I have encountered numerous scents far less pleasing, Mr Stilinski,” the Alpha reassured him, linking her arm through his so that she could lead him across to a middle-aged couple. They seemed pleasant enough, if a little stern, and had two young boys stood with them who were miniatures if their father. “May I present my Betas, Mr and Mrs Worthington.”

His arm was released so that he could bow to them, making sure to keep his head tilt briefer than the one he had given Alpha Ito, the couple responding with courtesies of their own. His hand was once again take, this time by Mr Worthington, so that they too could scent him.

“And these are their children, Henry and George.”

The two boys offered him nods rather than bows, Gazing up at him all the while with curiosity obvious in their eyes, and Stiles responded with a small bow and a warm smile.

He knew he would never remember the names of all of the people he was introduced to that evening but found himself subconsciously paying more attention to the members of the Pack who were chest to him in age. In fact, once the introductions had been made and the Pack dispersed, Lydia led their conversation in such a way that he could learn about them.

Liam Dunbar, a handsome young man of sixteen, had been attacked by a rogue Alpha named Ennis two years previously. Of course it reminded him of his dear friends own situation but unlike Scott, who had been left to transition unaided, Liam’s mother and step-father had approached Satomi in order to get him the help he needed. He had apparently struggled, the change affecting his temper, but the Pack had helped him to learn control.

Hayden Romero, a modest yet discretely tenacious young woman of sixteen, had been born to a long line of born wolves in Lisbon, Portugal. She, along with her parents and older sister, had fled to England to escape Napoleon Bonaparte’s occupation of their beloved country and had been accepted into the Ito Pack as soon as they’d arrived in Bath due to previous connections between their old Pack and their new Alpha. As she told it she had known that Liam was her True Mate as soon as they had been introduced to each other.

This led to an explanation of True Mates for Stiles’ sake as he’d never heard of such a thing.

“True Mates are exactly what the name suggests; a werewolves soulmate, for lack of a better term,” Hayden explained happily, linking her fingers with Liam’s. Her accent, Stiles decided, was absolutely delightful. “I suspected the moment I caught his scent but it wasn’t until we touched that I knew for certain. It was as though I had been struck by lightning.”

“My wolf longs for her, to be with her, to make smile,” Liam admitted, smiling at his mate who reached out yo fix his hair. “Although even I’ll admit that being True Mates doesn’t automatically make us compatible. We’re still working a few details, mostly on my part.”

Stiles found himself quite liking the idea of True Mates.

“We shan’t be married until we are eighteen, though,” Hayden announced, her smile all but blinding. Liam had offered a broad smile of his own. “A long engagement will suit us fine.”

Brett Talbot, a striking young man of eighteen, and his younger sister, Lori, were also born werewolves who had been sent to live with their Aunt and Uncle, the Betas, Mr and Mrs Worthington, after their parents had perished in a fire which had killed the rest of the Pack they had been born into. They seemed pleasant enough although Lori was painfully shy.

Lastly there was Corey Bryant, who was also sixteen, had come to the Pack as a young child after he had been abandoned by his family, forcing him to survive alone on the streets from the age of five. Satomi herself had found him the winter he’d turned nine, hidden within the barren rose bushes in the rear garden of house where he’d attempted to find shelter the night before, almost frozen to death. He’d gazed up at her, his eyes filled with tears, and had apologised for trespassing in her garden even as his body trembled, his lips so blue that they had appeared almost black. He would have died that day had Satomi not made the decision to bring him into her Pack. He’d only taken the Bite recently, Satomi being against turning children unless there was no other option, and had discovered his True Mate before he’d even suffered through his first full moon; a young man named Mason Hewitt who had been friends with Liam since they were eight. He was human, the son of two former slaves who had been freed when slavery was abolished in 1807, and not a member of the Pack.

His fears of saying or doing the wrong thing proved unfounded and by the time he left he felt all the more comfortable in his unfamiliar urban surroundings for having met the Pack.

~ * ~ 


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

It took only three days for Stiles to decide that he was much better suited to a rural lifestyle than that which his hosts occupied in the town. His first few days in Bath had been spent being prodded and measured in various shops as Lydia endeavoured to “correct his truly abominable wardrobe” so that she wouldn’t be ashamed to appear in public alongside him. It was torture, plain and simple, although his chief discomfort had come about after he’d been forced to admit that he couldn’t afford several of the items shed ordered for her on the money that his father had sent with him. She had smiled at him as though he were a child and had calmly informed him that his new clothes would be paid for by the Ito Pack.

Once “suitably dressed” they had begun to introduce him to Bath society, beginning with an evening spent at the Upper Assembly Rooms where it was far too crowded for his liking. It had been a successful introduction, according to Lydia, and his presence had been “noted.”

Stiles honestly couldn’t decided whether or not this was a good thing.

Following this supposed success they began to visit the Pump Rooms every morning where they paced the long gallery for an hour alongside the fashionable men and women of Bath. It seemed that it was Mrs Martin’s desire that he be introduced to the important members of Bath’s human society as quickly as possible whilst Lydia was slightly more reserved about introducing him to the members of the werewolf society, explaining that while the should know them by sight he should really be introduced to the Betas of each Pack first so that they could confirm that he wasn’t a threat. Then he could be introduced to the Alphas who would then permit him to be introduced to the Gammas. So instead she introduced him to a couple of Omega wolves who lived out of town and pointed out the others from a distance.

It wasn’t until the evening where Stiles made his first appearance at the Lower Assembly Rooms that he was finally introduced to one of the other Packs that resides within Bath.

The Hale Pack.

Although, in typical Stiles fashion, it didn’t go quite to plan…

“Oof!”

Stiles winced as he felt himself collide with a solid wall of muscle, his body rebounding so violently that he would have fallen had a strong pair of hands not grabbed his upper arms.

“Alpha Hale!” Lydia gasped from somewhere behind him, drawing his gaze up from where it had settled on the top button his saviours waistcoat just in time to see the distinctive red glow bleeding out of a pair of hazel coloured eyes. For a long moment Stiles couldn’t look away, not even when the grip on his arms tightened, but eventually he was able to tear his eyes away in order to glance back at the concerned Lydia. “Please, accept our apologies.”

She and her mother offered him a perfectly synchronised curtsey each, heads tilted over.

Stiles felt his eyes going wide.

He had been distracted by, well, he couldn’t remember what he had been distracted by but whatever it was it had caused him to collide with someone. And not just anyone; an Alpha.

“I…I do apologise, Alpha Hale,” Stiles uttered, his cheeks flushing a deep red colour as the handsome young man he had walked into turned his attention back to him. Alpha Hale couldn’t be much older than eight-and-twenty, a surprisingly young age for one in such a position of power and responsibility. In regards to his looks he was strikingly tall, garnering the attention of every unmarried young woman in the room, lightly tanned and possessed a fine head of brown hair so dark it was almost black. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Obviously not,” Alpha Hale responded, gazing down his nose at the human before him as he released the hold he had on Stiles’ arms. “I do not believe we have been introduced.”

Mrs Martin stepped forwards to stand beside Stiles, giving him a quick look that was clearly intended to remind him to offer the Alpha a suitable bow of respect as she introduced him,

“Alpha Hale, may I present our guest for the winter season, Mr Stilinski.”

Bending at the waist Stiles executed a perfect bow, just as he had been taught to but with the added head tilt in deference to the other man’s Alpha status, holding it for a slow count of ten before returning to his full height. He was surprised to find that Alpha Hale had been joined by an older man of about thirty and two young women during the course of his bow.

“Mr Stilinski,” Alpha Hale murmured, his hands clenching into obvious fists at his sides for a moment before he turned and gestured to his three companions as he introduced each of them prompting another round of bows and curtseys. “May I present my Betas, my uncle, Mr Peter Hale, and my sister, Miss Cora Hale. With them is my niece, Miss Malia Tate.”

Strange, Stiles thought as he returned to his full height once more, that Alpha Hales niece didn’t share their name yet it was obvious by their appearance and the way that the Beta, Mr Peter Hale, kept her close that he was her father. Did that mean she was natural born?

“Have you been long in Bath, Mr Stilinski?”

This question came not from Alpha Hale who appeared as though he had smelt something foul, prompting Stiles to wonder briefly if his scent wasn’t quite a pleasant get as Alpha Ito had claimed, but from his uncle, Peter Hale who wore a peculiar knowing smirk on his face.

“About a week, sir.”

“Really!” Peter cried out with affected astonishment, causing his daughter to snigger.

“Why should you be surprised, sir?”

“Why indeed?” he responded, his smirk only increasing. “Why, because in situations such as these propriety demands that some emotion be raised by your reply, and surprise is easily assumed, and not less reasonable, than any other. Now, we’re you never here before, sir?”

Miss Cora Hale and Miss Malia Tate exchanged a smirk of their own.

“Never, sir.”

Beside him Lydia wore a frown as she observed the way Alpha Hales hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, his body trembling ever so slightly as he stared across at Stiles.

“Indeed!” Peter exclaimed once more. “Have you yet honoured the Upper Rooms?”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles responded, puzzled by the strange conversation. “I was there last Monday.”

“Have to been to the theatre?”

“Yes, sir; I was at the play on Tuesday.”

“To the concert?”

“Yes, sir; on Wednesday.”

It felt as though he were being interrogated, questions being fired at him by the Beta whilst his companions remained silent. People were also beginning to glance their way, openly envious or frowning in confusion, which only made Stiles feel even more uncomfortable.

“And are you altogether pleased with Bath?”

“I like it well enough, sir, although I find I miss my home more than I expected I would.”

“Uncle,” Alpha Hale interrupted Peter before he could pose another question, causing them all to turn towards him. He looked strangely uncomfortable. “It is time that we were going.”

This statement only caused Peters smirk to grow.

“Of course, Alpha,” he murmured, turning to offer Stiles a parting bow. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Stilinski. I am sure we shall run into one another again in the coming days.”

Stiles didn’t know quite what to make of that but he bowed politely in response.

He moved aside to allow the four members of the Hale Pack to make their way towards the exit, placing himself closer to Lydia, and watched as everyone else moved aside for them.

“…was it just me or were they acting strangely?”

“Alpha Hale is not the most sociable of men at the best of times,” Mrs Martin admitted softly as the three of them turned and continued their journey into the Lower Rooms. Lydia offered a noise of agreement, slipping her arm through his as they finally made it into the main room where the dancing was taking place. He hoped she didn’t want him to dance with her; he’d always struggled with formal dancing fur to the fact that when he and Scott had been learning together he had always had to take the woman’s part and now struggled to remember the men’s part. “Which is entirely understandable, all things considered…”

“Things?” Stiles repeated, his curiosity instantly peaked. “What things do you speak of?”

“Shortly after we arrived in Bath most of the Hale Pack perished in a fire at their family estate,” Mrs Martin explained softly, her voice tinged with sadness even as she watched the revellers. “Only those who were visiting Bath survived. With the death of Talia Hale, the Alpha at the time, it passed to her daughter, Laura, who was killed five years ago by rogue hunters. That is when the Alpha status passed to the current Alpha, her brother, Derek.”

“There’s also a rumour that he lost his True Mate to consumption,” Lydia added mournfully. “But no one from the Hale Pack has ever confirmed whether or not the rumours are true.”

Stiles’ heart clenched sympathetically; he knew what loss felt like, knew what it was to lose a parent, and yet he couldn’t imagine what losing almost his entire family would feel like.

They stayed for another hour or so, Lydia dancing with several eligible young men although none of them seemed to peak her interest until she accepted her final dance of the night. He was strikingly handsome, with the most startling green eyes, high cheekbones and wore clothes of the highest quality and in keeping with the current fashion. To say that he and Lydia made a striking couple as they dominated the dance floor was an understatement.

“So is that the young man you’ve got your eye on?” Stiles enquired as the three of them settled into the carriage for the journey home from theLower Rooms. “What’s his name?”

“Jordan Parrish,” Lydia answered by way of a confirmation, settling her hands in her lap as she began to rattle off what she considered to be the important facts. “Four-and-twenty years of age. Good family. Newly returned naval war hero. Annual family income of £10,000 per annum. Made his own fortune on prize money during the war. Single. And a Hellhound.”

Stiles guffawed loudly,

“A Hellhound?!”

“I know, he doesn’t seem the type, does he?”

No, he didn’t, but this particular fact did help to explain why Lydia had set her cap at him.

It certainly wasn’t for his fortune, substantial as his fortune was, it was because they were both creatures that were closely associated with death; a Wailing Woman and a Black Dog.

They returned to their day to day routine, mercifully with far less shopping than there was before, although now it seemed that everywhere Stiles went there was a member of the Hale Pack which resulted in half-a-dozen new introductions courtesy of Mrs Martin or Lydia.

According to Lydia seventeen-year-old Isaac Lahey, who they bumped into in a popular tea shop, had suffered through a thoroughly unpleasant childhood. His mother had died whilst fighting to bring him into the world, leaving him and his older brother, Camden, in the care of their abusive father. According to her “reliable source” the abuse had been so bad that Isaac still suffered from claustrophobia all these years later and his brother had run away to join the army, a decision which had eventually led to his death at the Battle of Badajoz in 1812. He had been rescued from his father by the current Alpha Hale less than a year previously and had accepted the offer of the bite in order the escape his tormentor.

Erica Reyes, also seventeen, and Vernon Boyd, eighteen-years-old were introduced him in the Pump Rooms on the morning of his fourteenth day in Bath. Boyd, as he preferred to be known which immediately endeared him to Stiles, had lost his parents as a young child to scarlet fever, nearly succumbing to the disease himself, and was sent to live with his elderly grandparents who lived in a small cottage on the border of the Hale family estate. As a child he became good friends with Cora and Malia and through them grew close to Laura who, after the fire, offered him the Bite in order to begin rebuilding their Pack. Apparently Boyd hadn’t even hesitated, knowing that it would reassure to know that he’d be looked after once they were gone. Erica had lived in Bath her entire life but due to her parents running a boarding house had most certainly not mingled with their class of people until after she had been turned. She had been born with epilepsy, a disease of the mind which caused her to suffer potentially deadly fits. Her parents had gone to several Alpha’s begging for help, but only Alpha Hale had been willing to allow her to join his Pack. Lydia had hurried to explain that they hadn’t gotten around to approaching Alpha Ito or she would have helped them. They were engaged to be married once they both turned twenty-one and were True Mates.

A concert at the Upper Rooms introduced him to the next two members of the Hale Pack; Jackson Whittemore and his husband of one month, Ethan Steiner. Jackson was eighteen-years-old and had been a member of the Hale Pack since he was born due to the traumatic events surrounding his birth. Due to the high profile of his birth parents, Sir Gordon and Lady Margaret Whittemore, his story was well known; his mother had been seven months pregnant when their carriage lost a wheel and tumbled down an embankment five miles from home and was found, mortally wounded, by Talia Hale who helped her to bring her son into the world before she succumbed to her injuries. As there were no other living relatives the Hales had taken Jackson in as one of their own. His premature birth had left him weak and frail, forcing Talia to turn him when he was only six months old in order to save his life. Upon Jackson’s eighteenth birthday he has inherited his father’s title, fortune and estate which, according to Mrs Martin, had turned him into one of the most sought after young men in Bath despite the fact that he had already been engaged to his True Mate and according to Lydia they had been forced to bring their marriage forward by a couple of years in order to get those wishing to steal him away from his True Mate to leave him alone.

“They make for a striking couple, do they not?” Lydia had sighed once they had separated in order to take their seats. Of course Jackson and Ethan being werewolves meant that they could undoubtedly still hear every word they spoke, not that Lydia cared. “Had he not already found his True Mate by the time he arrived I probably would have flocked after him myself, at least until Mr Parrish had arrived. And, oh look, there he is now. Smile, Stiles.”

“Why should I smile at the man you wish to marry?”

“Because he will be more likely to approach me if my companions seem to be in good spirits,” Lydia had all but hissed through her teeth, her own smile never faltering. Mrs Martin had offered a soft sound of agreement. “And we are in good spirits, are we not?”

Stiles had known better than to argue and/or protest.

He had learned the following afternoon that Mr Ethan Steiner was in fact a twin, his mouth dropping open in surprise when they (not literally, this time) bumped into them as he and Lydia took a stroll through the park. Mrs Martin had stayed home that day with a headache.

Aiden and Ethan Steiner, now four-and-twenty, had been born to a family of werewolves who belonged to one of the so called “Wild Packs” of the North but had broken from their Pack shortly after their nineteenth birthdays. There were many rumours surrounding their departure but one fact remained constant throughout all of them; upon reaching puberty the twins had discovered that they had the ability to merge their small werewolf forms into one giant form, the Voltron Wolf. How much time they spent traveling as Omegas was also uncertain, some rumours claiming mere weeks before they allied themselves with the Hale Pack, other suggesting that they toured Europe for a number of years. In fact only one fact about the twins arrival in Bath and subsequent acceptance into the Hale Pack was known by all; they had both met their True Mates, finding them almost at once within their new Pack.

Ethan had found Jackson whilst Aiden had found Cora.

“Do the waters of Bath hold some special powers over werewolves?” Stiles enquired as the three of them rode in their carriage one evening, heading to the “Full Moon Ball” which took place once a month. It had begun hundreds of years ago as a gathering of the human population of Bath, ensuring that they were all safe during the Full Moon and had evolved from there. “I mean, from what I understand finding your True Mate is, or rather should be, rare and yet here we have three couples within the Hale Pack and, what, five within the Ito Pack? That seems like rather a lot of True Mates to be considered anything close to a rarity.”

Lydia chuckled.

“I don’t think so,” she responded brightly, tucking a feather from her elaborate hairstyle back in place after it had fallen in front of her eye. “Why did I decide to wear feathers?”

“Because they are the current fashion, my dear, and you wouldn’t want to be considered unfashionable now would you,” Mrs Martin announced calmly, fanning herself in the stuffy heat of the carriage. It was strange, Stiles thought, it was a chilly evening outside and yet for some reason their carriage was getting stuffier by the minute. “That colour suits you, Stiles.”

Lydia had chosen his outfit for the evening, of course, and it consisted of a peacock coloured jacket with silver plated buttons, cut so as to suit his skinny frame, a velvet navy coloured waistcoat, stone coloured breeches, an ivory coloured shirt, cravat and stockings. His outfit was finished off by his finest black leather shoes, the large silver buckles gleaming on top.

“Thank you, Mrs Martin,” Stiles murmured, tugging at the bottom of his jacket to untwist it. He longed to loosen his cravat but knew that Lydia would murder him if he ruined her hard work. “I wouldn’t normally wear blue. Before your daughter got her hands on me I mostly stuck to greys and browns. And black, of course. They don’t show the mud quite so much.”

It was raining lightly by the time they arrived at the Upper Rooms so they wasted no time before darting inside, heading into the ballroom which was already bustling with activity.

Lydia uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“New faces,” she murmured, drawing their attention to where a man stood in the far corner of the room with a woman on either side of him. “How interesting. I wonder who they are.”

“There’s Mrs Morrison,” Mrs Martin announced, spotting one of the towns most dedicated gossips across the room. “If anyone knows their identity it’ll be her. Excuse me a moment.”

One of the women was young, no older than eighteen, and had an abundance of dark brown hair gathered into a bun at the base of skull, blue ribbons which matched her dress wound in to the simple hairstyle to make it seem more complicated than it actually was.

The other was older, closer to the man in age who had what Stile could only describe as salt and pepper hair. Her hair must once have been a vivid blonde but had now faded into a pale brown and her thin face was lined with age, particularly in the corners of her blue-grey eyes.

“They are the Argents, originally of Kent,” Mrs Martin announced as she returned to them, primed with the information she had learned from her friend the gossip. “The gentleman is Mr Christopher Argent, a wealthy widower, and the young woman is his only child, Miss Allison Argent. She possesses a dowry of £10,000 and is expected to marry well. The other woman is his sister, Miss Katherine Argent, as yet unmarried and unlikely to be so given her age. They are in town so that Mr Argents father, Mr Gerard Argent, can take the waters.”

Lydia hummed thoughtfully.

“Stiles. Ask Miss Allison Argent to dance with you?”

“What? No!”

His vocal protest was met with a glare so sharp that he couldn’t help but capitulate, sighing deeply as he glanced across at the young woman he had just been ordered to dance with. Miss Argent was gazing longingly towards the crowded dance floor, hands clasped together.

“Why?” he enquired softly. “Lydia, why do you want me to dance with her?”

“She interests me,” she responded simply, brushing her hands down her sides as she smiled warmly across at the rapidly approaching Mr Parrish. “Society dictates that I must wait to be introduced to her before we can speak properly. You, on the other hand, may ask her to dance without an introduction. Then, once you’ve danced together and engaged in suitable conversation, you can introduce us and then I can befriend her. Now, please, excuse me.”

Her plan to catch Mr Parrish’s attention was obviously working as he only had eyes for her.

“I suppose I should do as she says,” he sighed, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Mrs Martin offered him a reassuring smile. “Pray that I do not step on Miss Argents toes…”

Weaving his way through the crowd surrounding the busy dance floor he came to a halt in front of the three Argents, offering them a bow before extending his hand to Miss Allison.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

“Oh!” she gasped, a smile transforming her face. “Yes! I mean, yes, you may, Mr…?”

“Stilinski,” Stiles supplied, nodding to her father as Miss Argent placed her small hand in his, allowing him to lead her out onto the dance floor, taking their places for the dance. “I must warn you that I’m not the worlds best dancer. My friend, Lydia, asked me to dance with you so that I could then introduce the two of you. I think she thought you looked a bit lonely.”

“Oh,” Miss Argent uttered once more as they began following the straight motions of the dance, her tone slightly more subdued than before. “Well, thank you. I was feeling lonely, I must admit; we only arrived in town yesterday so have yet to make any acquaintances.”

“I understand you are here so that your grandfather can take the waters.”

“I’m impressed,” Miss Argent offered him what appeared to be a genuine smile as they came in close together before separating, Stiles stumbling ever so slightly. “The towns gossips work even faster than the ones back home. I didn’t believe that was possible.”

“Yes. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks myself and they’ve impressed me,” he admitted with a laugh, moving around the couple to their right as the dance dictated, cutting it a little bit too close so that their shoulders collided ever so briefly. “Have you no friends in Bath?”

“None, Mr Stilinski,” Miss Argent responded, laughing softly as she caught sight of his minor collision. Despite his less than stellar performance she was gliding through the dance as though she was a feather caught up in a breeze. “And yourself? Have you friends in Bath?”

“I am staying with Mrs Martin and her daughter, Lydia,” Stiles explained, pressing his hand to hers as they turned around before falling back into line. “They are members of the Ito Pack and I have found myself to be something of an honourary member whilst I’m here.”

“Werewolves?” Miss Argent exclaimed, startled. “You’re staying with werewolves?”

“No, Lydia, Miss Martin, is a Banshee,” he explained with a smile. “And her mother, Mrs Martin, is as human as you or I. They used to be our neighbours before they left Fullerton.”

“Is that where your from?”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded. “A pleasant little village quite different to Bath, I can tell you.”

This led them down the road of conversing about their homes, comparing the two villages which, by all accounts, seemed to be very similar indeed with only one glaring difference; whilst Fullerton was completely landlocked Miss Argents village was located on the coast.

Soon enough the dance reached its conclusion, Stiles stumbling only once more, and as he led his partner off of the dance floor he spotted a determined Lydia heading towards them.

“Miss Argent, please allow me to introduce Miss Martin,” he recited the introduction as clearly as society demanded that it be done, mostly for the benefit of those persons blatantly listening in on their conversation. “Miss Martin, may I introduce Miss Argent.”

From then on it was as though Stiles was no longer present; the two young women offered each other a polite curtsey before launching into a detailed conversation, their pleasant voices winding together as they willingly supplied information about themselves whilst being carefully not to overstep the level of appropriate information for their first meeting. Stiles was left to stand their, listening to them talk without being given the opportunity to speak himself. He didn’t know whether to be offended or pleased that he had been spared.

Miss Argent, it turned out, was a keen musician who wished that she had more talent for drawing, the complete opposite of Lydia who could sketch a perfectly lifelike image of anyone she met but couldn’t sing a note in tune. She had lost her mother the year before, hence why her father still wore black although she herself had already emerged from her period of mourning, and it was unsurprising that she was unwilling to speak of how she died. Lydia had been equally careful about how much she shared about why her father was no longer in her life. Miss Argent had no suitors, as of yet, but was delighted to learn of Lydia’s attachment to and intentions for Mr Parrish who by then had been coerced into dancing with Miss Louisa Price by the girls mother. He was attentive to his partner, yes, but even Stiles could see that his smile wasn’t as bright as it had been when he’d been dancing with Lydia. They spoke of the Ito Pack next, Miss Argents cheeks flushing as she posed question after question about what life was like in a Pack, as she sought out the truth of the rumours she had grown up hearing about werewolves, as she learned about Banshees.

As the two spoke, their friendship blossoming before his very eyes, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on edge. Someone was staring at him, but who? As discretely as he could he scanned the room and suddenly found his gaze locked with that of Miss Argent, the elder. Her gaze was cold, hard even, without an ounce of the friendliness that her niece displayed and it was painfully obvious that she did not approve of Miss Argents new friends.

Yet as Stiles watched, his gaze still locked with hers, she offered him a cold smile and a nod before she turned away to speak with her brother whose own face was purposefully blank.

Odd.

He wasn’t given any time to ponder her reaction as Lydia all but dragged him out of the dance floor to dance with her, placing them directly beside Mr Parrish and his new partner, Miss Fredericka Collins, and his thoughts were soon dedicated to remembering the steps.

He probably would have pondered the reaction more the following day had a surprise been awaiting him when he came down to breakfast, Scott McCall and their mutual friend, Danny.

“…what are you doing here?”

~ * ~ 


	4. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

Stiles wondered if he should have seen this coming as the group continued their leisurely circuit around the Pump Rooms, greeting those they knew well with polite conversation and those they knew only in passing with a small bow or curtsey. At the head of the group were Scott McCall and Allison Argent who, since being introduced by Stiles upon arrival, had been completely inseparable whilst at the back of the group Danny Māhealani and Brett Talbot were equally as focused on each other; he genuinely suspected that the sun could plummet from the sky or the sea could rise up to wash them away and not one of them would notice.

They had come to Bath, or so Stiles had been informed earlier that morning, so that Danny could purchase a new pianoforte as the one that he and his sisters shared had finally given up the ghost after many long years of abuse; of the four Māhealani siblings only Danny, the eldest child and only son, had any talent for the instrument. His younger sisters played only because society demanded that women of their class apply themselves to music and art. He hadn’t intended to visit Stiles but when Scott had learned of his intended destination he had suggested that he join Danny, to keep him company on the long journey and to assist with transporting his purchase back home, and had suggested that they call on Stiles for advice.

Advice about what, Stiles wasn’t entirely sure, as he was quite possibly the least musically inclined person currently residing within the city of Bath. Lydia, on the other hand, had a natural talent and could sing and play with an admirable level of skill. She had believed that Stiles was exaggerating his poor skills, mercifully whilst they were home, and had forced him to play for her. It had been a disaster, with one of the wires actually snapping in half, and he had been banned, on pain of having his fingers broken, from touching the instrument since.

“I shall take you to the shop where I purchased my own pianoforte, Mr Māhealani,” Lydia had informed them, indicating the beautiful instrument in question. It was too large for the Māhealani’s, not to mention too expensive as it had been bought with Pack funds, but Stiles was sure that Lydia would have figured this out for herself and wouldn’t have recommended a shop that couldn’t offer more affordable models. “But first you shall take a turn about the Pump Rooms with us; you cannot come to Bath without making some new acquaintances.”

And that had been that.

Lydia had spoken and, as ever, they had all agreed.

Whilst walking to the Pump Rooms she had linked her arm with Danny and deftly quizzed him about his family, his likes and dislikes and, most importantly Stiles suspected, his marital status. Walking behind her with Scott at his side, Mrs Martin suffering another headache which had kept her at home, Stiles got the feeling that she planning to play matchmaker. 

“May I enquire as to your age, Mr Māhealani?”

“You may,” Danny had responded with a twinkle in his eye. “I am just shy of nineteen.”

“And your family? You must excuse me but Māhealani is rather an unusual family name.”

“Almost as unusual as Stilinski,” Danny had responded, shooting a smile over his shoulder at Stiles before returning his attention to Lydia. “My father, Aheahe, hails from the Hawaiian Islands in the Pacific and that’s where our unusual surname comes from, whilst my mother, Elizabeth, was born and raised in our village. They met after my father, who is something of an adventurer, accepted an invitation from the Captain of a trading vessel to join his crew which eventually brought him to England. He had intended to return to the Hawaiian Islands but once he’d fallen in love with my mother he decided to make a new life for himself here.”

“Oh, how romantic,” Lydia had murmured. “You mentioned you have sisters earlier?”

“Yes, three, all younger than myself. Leilani is sixteen, Kailani is thirteen and Noelani is ten,” Danny had supplied happily enough before adding quickly, “And before you ask, as everyone inevitably does, my mother chose my English name and my father chose my sisters names.”

Stiles missed the moment she managed to extract his marital status from him, drawn into a conversation with Scott about his father, but the fact that he was single pleased her greatly. The fact that he had openly admitted to being attracted to his own sex, something that was still somewhat taboo amongst humans despite the fact that such things were no longer a criminal offence thanks to the influence of werewolf society and the fact that True Mate pairings could be male/female, male/male or female/female, had pleased her even more.

Now he knew why; upon arriving at the Pump Rooms she had made a beeline for where Brett had been stood talking to Liam and Hayden, making the proper introductions between the two handsome young men. A bow from each other, followed by a moment of polite conversation had preceded the all important moment when Brett had inhaled sharply, his eyes going almost comically wide as he reached out to take Danny’s hand as he’d gasped,

“I think…I think you are my True Mate, Mr Māhealani…”

How Lydia had predicted that that would be the case no one would ever know.

It had been Stiles that had spotted Allison, walking by herself and looking terribly lonely, and so he was the one at fault for creating the other sickeningly sweet couple within their group.

“And are you in Bath long, Mr McCall?”

“I had only intended to visit for the day, to aid my friend in purchasing and transporting a new pianoforte,” Scott admitted somewhat regretfully, drawing Stiles’ attention away from his recollections of the earlier hours of the day and back to the couple walking as close together as society would allow them to in front of him. “However, should I succeed in finding suitable lodgings I fully intend to spend the winter season within this fine city.”

Here Lydia spoke up from where she walked beside Stiles, her attention split between their own group and scanning the other faces moving about the room for any that were familiar.

“Mr McCall, you and Mr Māhealani are more than welcome to join us for the rest of the season, once you’ve delivered your purchase to your family, of course, Mr Māhealani,” she informed them, her statement proving that Stiles had been wrong to assume that nothing could draw their attention away from their new acquaintances for both Scott and Danny perked up, turning their attention towards Lydia. “I would never deprive your young sisters of their musical instrument. As it is I’m sure Mr Stilinski would appreciate the company of his own sex within a house of women. I assume you’ll need a couple of days to sort out your affairs at home so I’ll have your rooms prepared for you to return by the end of the week.”

“Thank you, Miss Martin,” Danny murmured sincerely whilst Scott merely gaped at the attractive young redhead. “If you are sure it won’t cause you any great inconvenience…”

“Of course not,” Lydia dismissed his concerns with a smile and a wave of her hand. A smile grew on Scott’s face as he glanced back and forth between Lydia and Allison. “At any rate you need to be introduced to Mr Talbots Alpha before you can begin courting each other.”

The colour drained from Danny’s face in an instant, prompting both Liam and Hayden to chuckle where they were stood slightly apart from the group, Hayden speaking up quickly.

“Do not worry, Mr Māhealani, anyone can see that you are indeed True Mates. Alpha Ito will welcome you into the Pack with open arms so long as you promise to treat Mr Talbot as well as he deserves,” she reassured him, much to Danny’s obvious relief, before chuckling and offering him a deliberately cheeky wink. “Now young Miss Talbot on the other hand…”

“Hayden!” Brett hissed sharply, hurriedly turned Danny to face him. “Don’t worry. My sister will love you, none the least because you have sisters of about her age. And there’s no rush for us to begin courting; we’ve only just met. We need a chance to get to know each other.”

“But you know…”

“…that you’re my True Mate?” Brett finished for him, taking the humans hand in his own so that he could give it a gentle squeeze. “Yes, my senses tell me that. But that doesn’t mean we have to rush things. In fact, I’m certain Alpha Ito will encourage us to take things slowly.”

“Perhaps you would like to join my family and I for dinner when you return, Mr McCall?”

Scott’s cheeks flushed a brilliant red as he smiled at the dark haired beauty beside him.

“I would love to.”

Addresses were exchanged, courtesy of the little calling cards that everyone of their social standing carried with them, and promises of calling on each other to arrange their further meetings were made before they all went their separate ways; Brett, Liam and Hayden returned to their Pack house to inform Alpha Ito of the day’s events, Allison headed towards the tea shop where she had arranged to meet her Aunt for lunch while Lydia led the way to the music shop she had spoken of where Danny was able to purchase a suitable instrument.

It wasn’t until much later, after Scott and Danny had left to return to the village to deliver the pianoforte and sort out the necessary arrangements for them to return to Bath, that Stiles realised for the first time since bumping into their Alpha he hadn’t seen a single member of the Hale Pack. Not in the Pump Rooms. Not in the many shops they had visited. Not in the park they had taken a stroll through on their way back to the Martin’s residence.

“Huh…”

Mrs Martin looked up from where she was playing a game of solitaire at the small card table situated in the corner of the parlour, a card poised to be placed down upon one of the piles.

“Did you say something, Stiles?”

“No,” Stiles murmured, resting back into the comfortable sofa he had been reclining in for the last hour, his book now almost finished. Lydia sat at the writing desk penning a letter to a friend she had attended school with but who had moved to the North with her husband. “That is…I didn’t say anything but...I’ve just realised that for the first time in over a week I didn’t come across any of the Hale Pack in town today…and now that I’ve said it out I realise how ridiculous it’s been that I’ve bumped into one of them every single day until today…”

Mrs Martin and Lydia shared a look.

“I had not realised that you had been making their acquaintance so frequently,” Mrs Martin finally murmured, setting her card down on the correct pile before turning to look across at him. “The Hale Pack aren’t usually known for socialising. Oh, they appear in society but they normally stay with each other or allies of their Pack. How many have you met now, Stiles?”

Stiles thought for a moment before answering,

“I haven’t seen Alpha Hale, his Betas or his niece since that night at the Assembly Rooms but I have since met Miss Reyes, Mr Boyd, Mr Lahey, Mr Whittemore and the two Mr Steiners.”

“And you’ve seen at least one of them every day?”

“Until today,” Stiles confirmed, frowning as he thought about it in more details. “Lydia was with me for all of the initial meetings but since then it has mostly been nods across a room.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Lydia murmured with a frown. “You obviously made a good impression.”

“What? By walking into their Alpha when I wasn’t looking where I was going?” Stiles snorted rather unattractively, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. It was probably just a coincidence.”

Returning to his book, content to believe his own conclusion for the time being, he failed to notice the puzzled look that Mrs Martin and Lydia shared; they weren’t so easily convinced.

It wasn’t intentional but for the next couple of days Stiles kept an eye out for members of the Hale Pack, particularly when attending the Assembly Rooms, but saw no sign of them.

Scott and Danny returned to Bath precisely when Lydia predicted they would, settling into the urban lifestyle with Stiles’ eager assistance. They were introduced to the Pack and it was interesting to see the difference between greeting a human who was potentially, or rather almost certainly if werewolf senses were as good as they were claimed to be, and greeting an Omega, a lone wolf without a Pack; Danny was welcomed like a long lost son whilst Scott, good, kind and honest Scott, was treated with suspicion. Satomi quizzed him relentlessly about his intentions towards the Pack and he, so honestly that no one could count a word he said, explained that whilst he would like to become part of a Pack one day he had come to Bath to spend time with a girl who he wanted to get to know better and his friend, Stiles.

“You speak the truth, young Omega,” Satomi murmured softly, once Scott had finished with his explanation, even going so far as to share the story of how he became a werewolf. “Your heartbeat does not lie. I am sorry that you had to go thought everything alone, Mr McCall.”

“Oh, I wasn’t alone,” Scott countered cheerfully. “I had Stiles.”

That said he turned to offer his best friend a beaming smile, one which Stiles returned with a somewhat bashful smile of his own as the members of the Ito Pack seemed to relax at last.

“And my mother, of course, but it was Stiles who helped me through my first few full moons until I got the hang of things,” Scott continued on cheerfully, causing several of the older Pack members to frown across at Stiles. “Although I’ll admit that I still struggle sometimes.”

“…do you not have an anchor?”

“No, we could never figure out what the books meant by that,” Scott answered, his words causing a sharp intake of breath from every other wolf in the room. “Is that a problem?”

“It is…somewhat concerning,” Alpha Ito conceded softly, placating her Pack with a simple hand gesture. “Mr McCall, would you be willing to spend the rest of today with me and my Pack. I believe you could benefit from some further instruction from a Werewolf source.”

“Truly? You would be willing to instruct me?” Scott responded eagerly. Once Satomi had nodded her head, just the once, Scott’s smile reached a point where it must have been hurting his cheeks. Several people, including Stiles, chuckled as they witnessed his response. “Yes! I mean, yes, Alpha Ito, I would love to learn whatever you think that I need to know.”

“It’s refreshing to find an Omega so willing to learn,” Satomi murmured, turning to dismiss her Pack with another single nod. Several of them left the room immediately whilst others lingered, Brett being one of them as he inched closer to Danny. “Come. We shall begin.”

Scott barely gave them a backwards glance as he followed her out of the room.

That was pretty much the last time Stiles saw his best friend for the next week, Scott only returning to the Martin’s townhouse to sleep; he even ate his meals with the Ito Pack. Brett, on the other hand, may as well have become a permanent resident given how often he had called to spend time with Danny or to invite him out for a walk or to join the Pack for dinner.

And speaking of dinner…

“Mr Stilinski!”

Turning set the sound of his name being called from the other side of the road Stiles smiled as he caught sight of Allison, a hand pressing down on her bonnet to keep it in place as she weaved between the carriages passing between them. Danny and Brett glanced backwards before continuing to walk on towards the Pump Rooms. Lydia, however, paused with him.

“Miss Argent. Good day,” Allison murmured, bobbing a quick curtsey as her manners caught with her. Stiles and Lydia responded in kind, well, that is Lydia did. She curtseyed. Stiles gave a bow because he is a gentleman and gentlemen don’t curt…“Mr Stilinski? Are you alright?”

“Apologies, my thoughts ran away from me,” Stiles muttered quickly before smiling at the young woman standing before him. “Pleasure to see you again Miss Argent. It’s been…”

“Far too long, given that our last meeting ending with myself making an open invitation to join my family for dinner, but my grandfather has been unwell,” Allison interrupted him, her manner polite if not entirely proper given that interrupting someone who was speaking was considered to be very rude. Stiles would know, he’d been forever reprimanded for doing just that when he was growing up. “Did Mr McCall not return to Bath as he said he would?”

“He did,” Stiles reassured her. “He is merely caught up with some business at the moment.”

“Oh, of course,” Allison murmured, smilingly softly with obvious relief. “Could you please convey a message to him for me? If the five of you are available I’d like to invite you join my family and I for dinner tomorrow evening. Please. My father looks forward to meeting you.”

She received two very different reactions to the pair she was speaking to.

Lydia replied promptly and properly,

“We would be delighted. Thank you.”

Whilst Stiles frowned for a long moment before blurting out,

“Five?”

“Yourselves, Mrs Martin, Mr McCall and Mr Māhealani, of course,” Allison explained with a laugh even as Lydia shot him a minuscule glare for not having worked that out himself. “My grandfather prefers to dine late so I’m afraid that dinner won’t be served until eight. I hope that’s not a problem. I know some people prefer to their evening meals earlier than that…”

“We usually take our evening meal at seven so one more hour won’t be a problem,” Lydia reassured the young woman before she could get too flustered. “Shall we see you at the concert tonight? I’m reliably informed that the choice of music will be most entertaining.”

“I wasn’t intending to but if you recommend it I shall certainly try.”

In the end it was Stiles that missed out on attending the concert due to a sprained ankle, brought about by his attention being drawn by what he thought was a member of the Hale Pack and misjudging the placement of the edge of the pavement. The resulting fall had been both humiliating and painful, particularly as it had resulted in Danny having to literally carry him back to the Martin’s house, and he had spent the evening with a damp cloth wrapped around his ankle which had been propped up on several pillows by a concerned Mrs Martin.

His injury then proceeded to keep him housebound the following day, throbbing with every beat of his heart, and he was sorely tempted to ask the others to pass on his apologies to the Argents but one look at Scott’s puppy dog expression had him reluctantly beginning to get ready whilst trying not to put and weight on his injured limb. It was a challenge, almost resulting in another injury but luckily he had landed on his bed, and by the time he made it downstairs they were already running late. Hannah had somehow found a walking stick for him to use for the evening which made things a little easier for him and mercifully they were taking one of the carriages that were at the Packs disposal saving him from having to walk.

“Mr Stilinski,” Allison greeted him warmly when they were shown into the drawing room of their townhouse which, despite being on the other side of town, was almost identical to the Martin’s own townhouse. “Oh, your poor ankle. I’ve worried for you after you took that nasty tumble yesterday. Mr McCall said you were quite miserable at being stuck indoors.”

“It wasn’t so much being stuck indoors,” Stiles explained, shooting a quick look towards Scott who had the decency to look apologetic about having been gossiping about him. Allison took hold of him by the arm and led Stiles across the room to a chair which had been placed near the fire and had a small stool set in front of it. “I’m an avid reader, you see. It was more the pain; I have never been too good at dealing with pain and my ankle throbs.”

“Alpha Ito has been instructing me on how to ease a persons pain but I’m not that good at it yet,” Scott announced as Allison guided the injured member of their group down into the chair. So focused was he on the young woman dressed charmingly in a white muslin gown with blue trimmings Scott missed the look shared between her father and aunt; a look of undisguised concern. Stiles saw it, however, as did Lydia and the others. What no one saw was the brief look of fury that passed across the elderly man stood in the corner of the room leaning heavily on his own cane. “Might I say that you are looking splendid this evening?”

“You may,” Allison responded, a delighted flush appearing on her cheeks before she composed herself and began acting as a proper young hostess should. “May I introduce my father, Mr Christopher Argent, my aunt, Miss Katherine Argent, and my grandfather, Mr Gerard Argent. These are our guests for the evening; Mrs Martin and her daughter, Miss Lydia Martin of the Ito Pack and their guests, Mr Stilinski, Mr Māhealani and Mr McCall.”

A quick round of courtesies followed.

“You failed to mention that our guests would be members of a Pack, Allison.”

There was no mistaking the fact that Mr Argent, Senior, was less than impressed. Even Scott picked up on it, his smile turning into a frown as the grey-haired man levelled with a glare.

“Oh, I thought I had, Grandfather,” Allison responded blithely, ignoring the mounting tension in the room. Her father looked like he has swallowed a lemon and was struggling not to choke hilts her aunt wore a similar expression to the one Stiles had seen upon her face at the a Full Moon Ball. “Besides, I don’t see why it should matter. They are the only people who have deigned me to be worthy of their acquaintance since we arrived in Bath.”

Mr Argent Sr harrumphed loudly but said nothing in response.

“Perhaps we should head through to the dining room,” Mr Argent Jr suggested through clenched teeth, grimacing out a tight smile. He offered his arm to Mrs Martin. “Shall we?”

“Thank you,” Mrs Martin returned stiffly, relying on her manners as she slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her from the drawing room. “You have a lovely home.”

“My wife selected it before she passed,” Mr Argent Jr responded tightly as the rest of their less than merry party followed behind them, Scott offering his arm to Allison’s who’s smile fell at the mention of her mother. “We had been planning this trip to Bath for some time.”

“When did your wife pass?” Mrs Martin enquired as he led her, and the rest of them, into their moderately sized dining room before hastily adding, “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I do not mind,” he assured her although his tone of voice begged to differ. A heavy silence fell upon the rest of them as they quickly took their seats, the Argents settling at one end of the table whilst the rest took their other, Scott and Allison, predictably ended up sat next to each other in the middle of the long table whilst. “We lost my wife and mother shortly after New Years when their carriage was forced from the road and down a steep embankment.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mrs Martin murmured, her compassion genuine as she focused on the man that she had ended up sitting next to opposite Scott and Allison. “How awful for you.”

“The coachman survived long enough to explain what had happened,” Kate spoke up before her brother could respond, sipping from her glass of wine which had only just been filled by their housemaid. “A rabid werewolf attacked the horses whilst they were returning from town, causing them to spook. We had no idea anything had happened; it was only when they failed to return in time for dinner that we realised that something was wrong and by the time we found the carriage it was too late. The coachman died later that evening but he was able to give us enough of a description of the beast that we were able to track it down.”

Her bluntness caused several members of the group to flinch, Allison in particular, of course, and her use of the word ‘beast’ to describe a werewolf, rabid or not, made Stiles’ blood boil.

Surprisingly it wasn’t Stiles that spoke up next, however, but Danny.

“Could you refrain from referring to werewolves in such derogatory terms?” the likeable young man requested, watching as his bowl of soup was carefully placed in front of him. It smelled divine but still that particular moment no one was feeling very hungry. Kate’s cold gaze literally snapped towards him. “A rabid werewolf should be treated with sympathy. They do not chose to become so and, contrary to what some narrow-minded fools believe, it is usually due to being ostracised by humans that a werewolf turns rabid as they are Pack creatures and require physical contact, particularly from other wolves, to ground them.”

“What an innocent view of the world you have, Mr Māhealani,” Mr Argent Sr all but sneered from his seat at the head of the table, the odd number of their party having result in him being seated there with no one at the other end. “Werewolves are creatures of violence–”

“Grandfather!”

“–and whilst the rest of the world seems to be happy to forget about this fact we so-called narrow-minded fools remember the dangers that they pose to humans. You say we should have sympathy for those who turn rabid and I suppose that is easy for one such as yourself echo has never lost a loved one to a werewolf,” he continued coldly, his hands clenched tightly around his cutlery. Allison looked painfully uncomfortable whilst poor Scott looked as though he were second away from fleeing the scene, not that Stiles could blame either of them. Danny remained calm and impassive despite the words being directed towards him whilst the two Martin’s bubbling anger was hidden behind their blank masks. “My beloved wife’s neck was broken because of a werewolf. My daughter-in-law bled to death because of a werewolf. My older brother, Alexander, took his own life as per our Code so as to spare himself the torment of becoming another dangerous beast after he was bitten by an Alpha.”

Stiles watched, confused, as all of the colour drained from Mrs Martin’s face.

“I apologise for my father, he is unwell and sometimes doesn’t realise what he is saying,” Mr Argent Jr muttered, rising from his seat and hurriedly rounding the table to physically pull his father up out of his seat, the older man spluttering and protesting that he’d known exactly what he was saying. “Excuse me for a moment whilst I get him settled. Please, eat.”

“I am so sorry,” Allison apologised, mostly to Scott, once her father had forcibly steered her grandfather from the room. “Grandfather is suffering from a sickness of the mind. It is why we are in Bath so that he can take the waters. He sometimes gets confused, says things that are both inappropriate and upsetting, but he was having a good day today so I thought…”

To say that the remainder of their dinner party was awkward was an understatement and Stiles was thankful when it came to an end, his injured ankle coming in handy as it gave them an excuse not to linger. How Allison, who appeared to be almost as sweet-natured as Scott, could be related to such a man Stiles didn’t known. He certainly didn’t like her Aunt; she had obviously enjoyed the upset he father had caused and had made several comments of her own throughout the rest of the evening regarding her opinion that werewolves were far more dangerous than people thought. Her father, however, was harder to place and so Stiles reserved the right to pass judgement once he knew the older man’s character better.

Following the disastrous dinner, as Stiles began referring to it, he willingly stayed home for another four days as he waited for his ankle to heal. Various members of the Ito Pack called on him to see how he was doing, particularly after hearing about the dinner, and Allison called on him twice; firstly to apologise again for her grandfathers behaviour and secondly to bring him a novel she’d spotted whilst out shopping and thought that he would enjoy.

His ankle wasn’t up to visiting the busy assembly rooms, particularly after he’d knocked it a couple of days after he’d reemerged into society, until the night of the New Moon Ball. As the name suggested it was held every month on the night that the new moon appeared, a special night in the werewolf calendar, and was attended by all of the Packs within Bath as well as their human allies and friends although they had to be presented by a Pack member.

Stiles was, somewhat predictably, presented by Lydia.

It was immediately apparent that this was going to be a much more boisterous evening than the Full Moon Ball, the music faster, the dances wilder and the conversation far, far louder.

The room was filled with familiar faces, so many that it took Stiles a long moment to realise that the Hale Pack, who had been missing for two weeks by that point, were in attendance.

“Oh,” he exclaimed softly, a strange feeling pooling in his stomach. “They’re here.”

“Indeed we are,” Alpha Hale murmured from close behind him, causing him to yelp rather pathetically as he spun around to face the much taller man. “May I have the next dance?”

That odd feeling in his stomach transformed into an all out churning feeling as he replied,

“Yes.”

~ * ~


	5. Chapter Four

**DISCLAIMER –** I own nothing.

 **SUMMARY –** When seventeen-year-old Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski is given the opportunity to stay with Mrs Martin and her daughter, Lydia, in Bath, he is hoping for an adventure. Soon introduced to society, he meets Allison Argent, her widowed father, Chris, and her as-yet-unmarried aunt, Kate. He also meets Derek Hale, a handsome young man from a respectable family of Werewolves and his sister, Cora, and must learn to navigate both human and werewolf society. Invited to visit the Hale estate, Lupine Abbey, he discovers the mystery of the deadly Hale fire and sets about discovering the truth behind the unpleasant circumstances.

 **AN –** ORIGINALLY WRITTEN AS PART OF THE NOVEMBER 2017 ROUGH TRADE CHALLENGE WHICH I WAS UNABLE TO COMPLETE IN THE TIME LIMIT DUE TO REAL LIFE COMMITMENTS AND ILLNESS SO WILL NOW POST IT HERE AND COMPLETE IT AT MY LEISURE. This story is what happens when I watch "Teen Wolf" whilst reading Jane Austen novels. It is loosely based on 'Northanger Abbey' but with the typical 'Teen Wolf' elements we all know and love.

**A SOCIETY OF WOLVES**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

As Stiles allowed himself to be led onto the dance floor he suddenly realised that, despite the fact that several other werewolves had men with them or were obviously pursuing men, he and Mr Hale were the only same-sex couple participating in this particular dance. Perfect. This meant that when he took his place at the end of the line beside Lydia he was the only male figure amidst a line of beautiful young ladies and a couple of older women enjoying a dance with their husbands and would therefore draw more attention than he’d have liked.

A lone member of the orchestra began playing the soft, slow melody of _Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot_ , causing Stiles to curse mentally; he had always been much more adept at the faster dances where his energy could be put to good use rather than the slow ones where precision and control were the key elements. And apparently it was going to be a case of “start as you mean to go on” as he was so busy silently cursing his luck that he almost missed the point in the music where he was supposed to offer his partner a bow and had to hurry through the movement to get back in time, earning himself a sharp look from Lydia.

Mr Hale extended his right hand perfectly in time with the rest of the orchestra joining in and Stiles was, once again, a beat behind when he moved to place his hand in the Alpha werewolves so that he could be led round in a clockwise rotation until he ended up back at his starting point. Whereas Mr Hale was grace personified, his posture absolutely perfect, Stiles felt like he was moving either too slow or too fast all at once, rendering him out of time with the slow tempo of the music and he couldn’t figure out what to do to correct it.

“Breathe, Mr Stilinski,” Mr Hale ordered softly, offering his left hand to his chosen dance partner. They repeated the same movements as before, only this time they went round in an anti-clockwise direction. Stiles frowned up at him even as his feet carried him through the correct movement. “Or I fear you shall collapse before the dance has reached its end.”

It was only then, with the werewolf pointing it out to him, that Stiles realised that he had indeed been holding his breath and reacted by sucking in a rather loud gasp of air as they moved through the next sequence of steps, releasing each other hands as they passed each other on the right shoulder before making their way around behind Mr Parrish and Lydia, earning himself another sharp look from his elegant friend. His cheeks felt as though they were literally burning with embarrassment as they crossed between the other couple so as to return to their starting positions and a cold sweat had broken out on the back of his neck.

“Stiles,” Lydia hissed at him as they swapped places as per the dance steps, Stiles passing behind his friend whilst she was able to take the direct route. “Smile, for heaven’s sake.”

Smile.

Right.

And breathe.

Breathe and smile.

He could do that.

Couldn’t he?

“How has Bath been treating you since we last met, Mr Stilinski?”

Mr Hales query had come just as Stiles was attempting not to accidentally walk backwards into his partner at the point in the dance where they crossed to go back to back with each other before walking backwards to their places. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d knocked Scott’s shoulder with his own when they had been learning this particular dance.

“I understand you suffered an injury to your ankle whilst my Pack and I were away?”

“You weren’t in Bath?” Stiles blurted out, turning his head to stare up t the handsome Alpha as the two couples turned into a lime facing the orchestra, Lydia on Mr Hales right, Stiles on his left and then Mr Parrish on Stiles’ left. Automatically he brought his hands up to the correct height to take the ones offered by two gentlemen. “That explains why I haven’t…”

His blush increased further as he snapped his head forwards, pursing his lips tightly to stop himself from blurting out the fact that he had been looking out for the various members of the Hale Pack. Keeping an eye out for a certain person or group was quite common, Stiles knew that, but it wasn’t acceptable to tell someone that you’d been looking out for them.

Mr Hale offered him an all too attractive smirk.

It was as they moved forwards, the other three bodies perfectly synchronised even as his continued to be a beat behind, that his mind processed the earlier portion of the Alphas statement, causing him to return his attention to the handsome werewolf as he enquired,

“How did you know about my ankle if you weren’t in Bath?”

Said ankle gave a twinge as he rolled up onto his toes to create the ‘ _rise’_ required by the dance but it was that of a remembered pain than of a fresh injury. It didn’t hurt when they took two steps back and repeated the ‘ _rise’_ before releasing each other’s hands and manoeuvring themselves back into position to continue with the dance; Mr Hale and Stiles crossing between Mr Parrish and Lydia before the two couples wound around each other to move down the line, placing Mr Parrish and Lydia on the end and Mr Hale and Stiles beside an attractive young couple that Stiles recognised from the Pump Rooms but had never met.

“A mutual acquaintance mentioned it,” Mr Hale explained as they started the dance over with the new couple, Stiles stumbling as his brain decided that it was more important to try and figure out who that mutual acquaintance might be than to focus on the steps. “Alpha Ito,” his dance partner supplied the answer without being asked to. “In her last letter she mentioned that she is assisting an Omega who is apparently a friend of yours. Is this true?”

“Scott, I mean, Mr McCall,” Stiles responded with a smile, nodding to where his best friend was stood with Danny and Brett. He had been disappointed to learn that Allison would not be attending the New Moon Ball, for a number of reasons, apparently, but seemed to be enjoying the conversation he was having w the couple. Mr Hale frowned across at him before executing the next part of the dance perfectly. “Yes, Alpha Ito has been helping him a great deal since he arrived. There are no other Werewolves in our village, you see, so when Scotty was bitten by a rogue Alpha he had to go at it alone. Well, that is to say, I helped as much as I could but half of the books on the subject are painfully vague whilst the others uses terminology that only a wolf can understand without thinking to offer an explanation.”

“I see.”

And now that he’d started talking Stiles, as per usual, found himself unable to stop.

“I’m hoping that he might be invited to join the Ito Pack one day,” he confessed as they transition from a couple into the line of four, hands clasped at shoulder height. “Scott, Mr McCall, was actually trying to help the Alpha that bit him, you see, after she stumbled into our village in a terrible state. Her Pack had been slaughtered by hunters, we later learned, and she was completely mad. And Scott, Mr McCall, always wants to help those in need, human or otherwise; you should see the amount of stray cats and dogs that gather around the Doctors house because they know he’ll feed them. Scott, not the Doctor; Scott’s, _Mr McCall’s_ , mother is the Doctors housekeeper, you see, and, when needed, his assistant.”

By now they had moved another place down the line, putting them between the familiar couple and Mr Dunbar and Miss Romero, and it was amusing to note that Stiles was a far better dancer when he was focused more on what he was saying than what he was doing.

“Her father was a Doctor, you see, so she knows more about healing people than you’re average housekeeper would,” he continued, not even registering the mixed looks he was getting from his fellow dancers or the fact that Mr Hale seemed to be fighting down a smile, obviously by Stiles’ ability to talk without stopping for a breath. “She even saved Danny’s, Mr Māhealani’s life a couple of years ago after he was thrown from his horse and bashed his head open on a rock or something. Lots of blood. Doctor Weldon gave up on him, said it was just a matter of time before he succumbed, but Melissa, Mrs McCall nursed him through it.”

Across the room Brett, who thanks to his superior hearing had heard every word Stiles had said, forgot what he had been saying in favour of gaping across at his True Mate in shock.

As Stiles passed around behind Miss Romero the young woman hissed across at him,

“You’re talking too much. Let _him_ speak.”

There was a clearly audible click as he clamped his mouth shut, his teeth clashing painfully as he held back what he had been about to say. Mr Hale frowned across at Miss Romero, his eyes actually flashing red for a split second, before focusing his attention back on Stiles.

“Mr Stilinski, I assure you that I have no problem listening to you talk,” he murmured sincerely as they passed around each other, starting the dance over again. Stiles blinked up at him with a small frown of his own; he’d heard that before from countless people who didn’t really mean it. “Truly. I am not much one for idle chatter myself. I struggle to form the words necessary to hold pleasant conversation. Please, continue with what were saying.”

“…I was only going to mention that Mr Māhealani is the gentleman stood with Scott, sorry, I keep forgetting to call him Mr McCall tonight, and Mr Talbot,” Stiles spoke up reluctantly as they turned anti-clockwise around each other for the third time. He was now completely aware of the way the other dancers were looking at him disapprovingly, particularly the couple they were now technically dancing with; they were another pair he recognised from the Pump Rooms but had never spoken to. “Mr Talbot and Mr Māhealani are True Mates.”

An odd look passed over Mr Hales face before his expression returned to normal.

“Then they have been truly blessed to find one another,” he finally announced, his eyes locked on the point where he and Stiles were joined by their hands as they turned into the line once more. “Such things are normally long, drawn out affairs when one partner is human; they cannot feel things the way we wolves can and as such take longer to process what they are feeling. To have known each other such a short amount of time and to have realised it is a remarkable thing. I shall pass on my congratulations when we next speak.”

As it had a habit of doing Stiles’ mouth ran away from him before his brain could catch up,

“Have you met your True Mate, Mr Hale?”

“…no.”

And that was the last word that Stiles got out of the Alpha for the rest of the dance and, after talking about everything and nothing for a little while longer Stiles too fell silent.

He hadn’t meant to upset the Aloha, as he obviously had, with his enquiry.

He had just been curious.

As soon as the dance had reached its conclusion Mr Hale offered Stiles a polite bow before all but fleeing the dance floor, disappearing into the throng of people before Stiles could even respond with a bow of his own. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing around self-consciously as he moved to join Scott and the younger members of the Ito Pack.

All of them, but particularly Lydia and Miss Romero, gave him a look.

“I know, I know,” he sighed sadly. “I talked too much and asked an inappropriate question.”

“It probably wasn’t as bad as you think…”

“No, it was definitely as bad as you think, Mr Stilinski,” Miss Romero announced bluntly. “However it could have been worse; at least you didn’t ask about the deaths of his family.”

Stiles let out a deep sigh, filled with frustration and regret, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair as tended to do when he was feeling nervous or upset only to have his wrist caught by a much smaller one and pulled back down, effectively turning him to face Lydia.

“We need to work on your conversation skills,” she informed him, releasing her hold on his wrist so that she could smooth the wrinkles out of her skirts. Stiles sighed once more, this time in defeat as he nodded his head in agreement. “Talking as much as you do is endearing, truly, but only so long as you don’t speak of unsuitable topics or make unwelcome quires.”

Scott nodded his head so vigorously in agreement that his hair flopped into his eyes.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted their conversation, prompting them all to turn to face a handsome older man. As one the members of the Ito Pack offered him a bow or curtsey with a full head tilt as befitting an Alpha. A beat later Stiles offered his own bow, careful to show the correct amount of respect, and Scott followed his lead, albeit a little bit hesitantly as he wasn’t used to the move yet. “May I have the next dance, Mr Stilinski?”

“…me?” Stiles was unable to contain his startled response. “You wish to dance with me?”

The Alpha chuckled deeply, extending his right arm so as to offer his hand to Stiles.

“I would, Mr Stilinski, for any man who can get Alpha Hale out onto the dance floor must be worth meeting,” the Alpha explained, his roguish smile never dropping. “Shall we dance?”

It felt as though every eye in the room was on him as he placed his hand in the Alphas.

A murmur spread throughout the room as they moved out into the floor.

“Sir, who _are_ you?” Stiles blurted out as they joined the other couples on the dance floor. He blushed, his partner letting out another chuckle as the orchestra began to play a waltz, a significantly more intimate dance than Stiles would have liked. “I’m sorry, it’s just that…”

“Alpha Deucalion, Horace Deucalion, at your service,” the Alpha interrupted him as the various couples spread out across the floor bowed or curtseyed to one another before settling into their chosen holds for the dance. Some were so intimate that they were borderline scandalous for such a public venue and Stiles was incredibly relieved when he was gently moved into the standard waltz hold, his left arm draped across his partners chest whilst his right arm was extended above his head. Alpha Deucalion mirrored his position, the fingertips of their extended arms grazing as he slowly began to lead them around the floor in the required counter-clockwise direction. “But I would prefer you address me as Alpha Deucalion or merely Alpha; my mother was in a cruel mood when she named me.”

“Horace isn’t _that_ bad,” Stile countered before he could think better of it, causing his partner to smile down at him as they followed the couple ahead of them around the room. It was a very strict rule when waltzing that each couple keep their place in the circle; passing other couples wasn’t allowed, nor was stopping partway through the dance unless one or both partners became injured or overcome. To do otherwise was just bad manners. “It’s quite dignified, in fact. Although I suppose it doesn’t sound very _Alpha werewolf_ , does it?”

Stiles was painfully aware that almost every eye in the room remained fixed on them as they danced, some looking envious, others confused or curious, but the various members of the Ito and Hale Packs that he caught sight of as they rotated looked worryingly, well, worried.

And Mr Hale, when Stiles suddenly caught sight of him, looked positively furious.

“Now, you must be new to Bath, Mr Stilinski, for I know that I would not have forgotten your face had our paths crossed before now,” Alpha Deucalion murmured, drawing Stiles’ attention back to his dance partner. His smile had become almost predatory. “Am I correct in deducing that your invitation to attend the ball this evening cake from the Ito Pack?”

“You are correct, Sir,” Stiles responded. “I am staying with Mrs Martin and her daughter.”

“Ah, yes, the Banshee,” Deucalion murmured, a hint of disapproval appearing in his tone of voice. “She is the young lady stood with the Hellhound, am I correct? I don’t know that I approve of Pack welcoming creatures so closely associated with death into their numbers.”

Stiles literally stumbled, only the arm wound around his chest stopping him from falling, and by the time he found his feet they had lost their rhythm in the dance. It was easy enough for him, in a move that broke several of the rules regarding a Regency waltz, to pull his partner from the circle so as to bring an abrupt end to their dance. Several people gasped loudly.

“I happen to be good friends with _the Banshee_ ,” he hissed sharply, pulling himself from the stunned werewolves hold; obviously no one had ever behaved in such a way when they had been honoured with a dance from the Alpha. “And from what I’ve seen _the Hellhound_ is an honourable young man and a perfectly respectable match for my friend. You, on the other hand, seemed to be a narrow-minded bigot and I would prefer to return to my friends now.”

That said he offered a quick, semi-respectful bow before turning and hurrying away from the obviously stunned Alpha. With his back turned to the werewolf he failed to notice the amused smirk hitch quickly settled on his handsome features but several others noticed it.

“Stiles, you can’t just…”

“Who was that and why did you let me dance with such a man?”

“That was Alpha Deucalion,” Lydia answered, her voice tight with discomfort. “Head of the second largest Pack in the city of Bath. He is not the sort of man that you refuse, Stiles.”

“Well, I just have,” Stiles muttered, glancing around until he caught sight of a tray of glasses filled with what appeared to be red wine. Reaching out he plucked one off of the heavily laden tray, almost knocking another one over in his haste, and downed the glasses contents. He then choked, unused to such a strong vintage. “Lydia, he called you a _creature of death_.”

“Stiles, I _am_ a creature of death, as is Mr Parrish,” Lydia pointed out, snatching the glass away from him and returning it to the tray. “ _However_ …thank you for defending my honour, even if it does mean that you’ve possibly upset one of the most powerful men in town...”

“He won’t make trouble for you and your mother, will he? Or Alpha Ito?”

“No more than he and his Pack already do,” Lydia assured him, giving the server a look until the tray of drinks were taken out of Stiles’ reach. Because the New Moon Ball was typically a werewolf gathering the drinks were significantly stronger than wine typically ingested by humans and does end with just enough wolfsbane to allow the wolves to feel it’s affects. For a human this combination could be disastrous. “Alpha Ito is simply too powerful for anyone to challenge openly. Besides Alpha Deucalion prefers to gain his power through investments and, more often than not, a marriage alliance with another Pack. Currently there are none within the Ito Pack that he has designs on. The same cannot be said of the Hale Pack; do you see the young man with the garishly bright waistcoat? That is Mr Theodore Raeken and he is one of Alpha Deucalion’s most recent additions to his Pack and ever since she came of age he has been attempting to woo the young Miss Malia Hale in order to merge their Packs.”

“That really happens?”

“More than you’d think, although most civilised Packs merely create alliances with one another rather than merge completely as such a move causes there to be a duel between the two Alphas to determine who should lead the Pack,” Lydia admitted softly. Beside her Brett hummed in agreement, nodding. “Now, Stiles, I would like you to dance with me.”

Stiles sighed deeply.

“…why does everyone wish to dance with _me_? I could honestly learn to hate dancing.”

~ * ~

 **A/N** Apologies for how long this chapter took; December was a very busy month for me. Also apologies for how short this is compared to the previous chapters. I also had to do some research about Regency dances so that I could get this chapter right. Hopefully it won’t take me as long to churn out the next instalment. Comments welcome. X

 


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